


No Sex on Missions, Logan

by OberonsEarring



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Abrupt Ending, Foreplay, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OberonsEarring/pseuds/OberonsEarring
Summary: Logan wants to have some fun.  Can he convince Scott to feel the same?
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers
Comments: 17
Kudos: 81





	No Sex on Missions, Logan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scottxlogan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottxlogan/gifts).



> ScottxLogan gave me this awesome prompt for this challenge. "Where does a child hide in a small town like this?" Hence the story. Enjoy!

“Where's a kid hide in a small town like this?” They'd been everywhere. Hours of searching. And, yet they still hadn't found young Clarence Hill – a blue-haired, green-skinned mutant who had been causing some panic in the Sunset Breeze retirement community. Logan looked up and down the quiet streets, dearly hoping that they didn't have to spend the night as Springhill was a dry town, which meant no liquor or beer. 

Scott shrugged. “I guess we'll keep asking around,” he said, holding back a sigh. This wasn't the assignment he'd been hoping for when the Quiet Council had sent him here. They were very detailed on how little Clarence had been causing too much trouble for the town since his mother had died, and they could no longer ignore it. Cyke had expected stolen cars and burned down houses, but rather he got a kid throwing eggs at houses and leaving cow excrement from the neighboring farms on doorsteps in the middle of the night. “He's probably just acting out, especially if there's no one to care for him.”

The retirement community had been the hardest hit by the boy's mayhem. Logan and Scott could see the remnants of graffiti, dug-out gardens, and knocked-over mailboxes. Yes, indeed, the child was acting out, but it made Logan wonder why no one took him in. “All these people, and they leave a fifteen year old kid out on the streets to fend for himself?”

“Happens sometimes,” Scott said quietly, not so fondly remembering his own childhood. “Let's check his house again this evening. Maybe he'll be back to his mischief and we'll catch him straight out.”

“We should check the school.”

“The child lost his mom – his only home authority. Do you really think he's going to go to school on his own?”

There were plenty of stares from inside curtained windows as they meandered through the streets of the retirement village and back into Springhill proper. They ate lunch at a small Italian restaurant, got a hotel for the night – just as Logan had feared – and grabbed a few groceries before heading up to their single room. Scott wanted to take a nap, something which Logan was more than willing to oblige. “I could take a nap,” he grinned. 

Cyke shook his head. “Oh, I know what you want.”

“And what's that?” Logan smirked, the tips of his claws just barely edging from skin. He leaned over the Scott's prone form, dragging the adamantium edge down crisp, white button up shirt. The material shredded in a long, clean line. 

“You're an asshole, you know that?” Scott sat up, immediately grabbing for his nap sack. Luckily for him, he always came prepared when it came to his much more aggressive partner. A sewing needle and white thread, he sighed his frustration with now having to repair the shirt. “Why couldn't you just let me take a nap?”

Logan growled and flopped onto the bed, causing Scott another round of fussiness as the bounce caused his stitch to come out crooked. “Come on, Slim, we ain't had fun in months.”

“We had _fun_ last night.”

Dragging a pillow over his face to smother the inevitable sigh, Logan spread out on the bed, his knee edging close to Scott's tailbone. “Come on, just a quickie.”

“You destroyed my shirt, Logan. If we're going back out tonight --”

“Five minutes. You can't hack five minutes.”

“Logan --”

Wolverine understood the tone of that voice very well. Scott was agitated and having no more of it.  
Arm over his eyes, he squirmed across the covers, his fingers trailing the air down Cyclops' spine, so close, yet not touching skin. “Logan.”

Another reprimand, and Logan wriggled against the itchy covers. Bored, hungry, dying for beer, he would have given anything for Scott to lean over top of him and kiss him with abandon. But, his luck was poor this afternoon. It took an hour – at least – for Scott to restitch his shirt, and then a call to a local pizza joint for lunch took even longer as One-eye insisted on showering before the delivery guy arrived. “You look fine!” Logan had told him ten times or more. “Come on! Come make out with me!”

“We're on a mission, Logan. No sex on missions, that was one of the rules.”

Logan garumphed and answered the door. Scott had taken the liberty of ordering three pizzas – which Wolverine was suddenly glad for as the smell made him extra hungry. “Thanks, Slim,” he called into the bathroom door, hopping on the bed to devour. A meat fest, a supreme, and then just cheese for Cyke himself. “Hurry up! It's getting cold!”

A towel wrapped around his waist, skin still glistening from the shower, Logan halted his consumption, the slice drooping in his hand. “You smell good,” he finally said, the long silence stalling Cyclops in his tracks. 

“Hotel shampoo?” It was the only explanation. 

“Yeah, well. You wear it well.” His eyes still on Cyclops and his still moist abdomen, he took a slice of meat lover's and devoured it in three bites. With his mouth full, he continued, “You really wear it well. Much better than that damn stuff you wear on Krakoa.”

“Emma bought that for me.”

“Don't care. It ain't you.” Scott had a clean scent before Krakoa. Straightforward soap and simplicity. No perfumes, no dyes, nothing to throw his nature off-kilter, but since moving to Krakoa, he smelled too harshly of musk and other manly ingredients. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Cyke, himself, wasn't a fan of the body wash, but he found it hard to tell that to Emma who was sure upon sure that this scent was right for him. “She also gave me the 125 year old bourbon. The good stuff, or so she said.”

“And you didn't tell me?”

“You haven't been a good boy.”

Logan paused, his blue eyes opening wide. “What?” His heart raced in chest with thoughts of lust and the sudden need to prove himself to man beside him. Scott didn't reply, just dropped the towel to reveal his nudity and then began to dress. “And what if I want to be a bad boy?” He clipped his fingers into the waist of Cyke's beige pants, preventing him from pulling them up further. Still no reply. “At least tell me how I've been bad?”

“You haven't showered in three days.” A calloused thumb across Logan's lips saw the feral mutant melting at the touch. Hand withdrawn, Scott continued dressing. “Do you want a salad?”

“No,” the older mutant replied, standing up on shaky legs. “I think I'm gonna shower.”

Hands damp from the quickening his stomach, Logan peeled away his clothes, already half hard with just a word from his partner. He was always the aggressive one, and he had never thought that he would be so turned on by the opposite. Already, even before the water began to soak his head, he could imagine Scott's lips on his, his hand taking subtle measure of his manhood. Yeah, it was definitely a turn-on. As the water began to stream down – steaming up the mirrors, he scrubbed himself to red, making sure that his hair-dusted body was completely clean. Just like a good boy would.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he stood naked and compliant, his blue eyes waiting for Scott to turn around. A salad bowl in his hand, Cyclops looked the shorter man up and beckoned him closer for a better view. He twirled the man around, checked his fingernails, smelled his hair. “Well done,” he said quietly.

“Am I good boy now?” Logan smirked.

“No.”

“What did I do wrong this time?” 

“You cut open my shirt again.”

“You're still pissed about that?” Scott nodded. Almost offended, but quickly calming down, he realized what the Captain Commander wanted. “How can I make it up to you?”

Sitting on the bed, Scott spread his legs wide, fingers dangling on thigh. Logan's breath stuttered, feeling the intensity of red gaze burn right through his soul. Long, rough finger slipped down across beige cloth, stroking upwards until once again resting on thigh. No words were said, but Wolverine knew exactly what he wanted.

Scott rarely asked for things, being so focused on his lovers' needs rather than his own. Logan could count on one finger the single time he asked for this, and even then he was rebuked. The shorter man had been tired, done with their fun. Worn out from the marathon session, he turned over and went to sleep, and now he could see where his months of neglect had gotten him. 

He doubted that he'd ever asked Jean or Emma for it, either. Being the way he was. 

Slowly, Wolverine tread the carpet between himself and Scott. Running the back of his hand down Cyke's jaw, “Next time, just tell me you need attention.”

Passion. Everything that Logan could express in that moment – every single drop – from the blue-eyed gaze to the soft lips that claimed Scott's own. He could feel Cyclops' heart beat a marathon in his chest, how his body shook from being claimed and treated as though he were special. “I'll be a good boy,” Logan said, rocking back on heels. “I'll be a very good boy.”

Tongue lashing out, licking across suddenly dry lips, he could feel Scott stop breathing. Waiting, holding out. Smiling, he knelt to the man's waist, fingers collapsing across button and zipper, working the beige pants down waist and over knees. “Yeah,” he coaxed, “A very, very good boy.”

One hand to chest, he pushed Scott back onto the bed, giving him freer access to grab the man's boxers and chug them off hips and ankles. Half-hard, Cyclops moaned as calloused fingers tickled across his length. Yes, the boy had been ignored in recent months, maybe years. No one to hold his hand, no one to make him feel so good. Tonight, Logan decided, was about Scott, and all of his focus would be upon that, just as his lover apparently wanted. 

Of course not to be undone, long fingers captured chin, tilted Wolverine's head upwards and claimed his lips. He was willing – to give in. To relinquish what little control he had garnered through his quiet command. And though Logan was tempted to let him, he knew better than to let the Boy Scout once again deny himself. Picking up his own flannel shirt from the floor, he stretched Scott across the bed, tying his first hand to the bed post, and then with Scott's button-up, he did the same to the other. He made sure the binds were tight – impervious to the tugs and pulls that Cyclops would give them. “You're mine,” Logan whispered into already reddened ear. 

Spread eagle, Scott could do nothing but whimper as Logan took to his manhood with tongue and audacity, licking and sucking and kissing it until it was fully hard and sweating precum. Salty and sour, the thick white liquid made a perfect lubricant for his fingers as he engaged Scott's ass. “You'll love this,” Logan said, watching carefully for denial. 

“Tell me you want this,” Logan spoke in midnight tones.

“Tell me _you_ want this,” Scott replied, a shuffle of his hips bringing his fully erect member into the gentle moonlight from the window. 

“I want this,” Logan breathed into his ear. A shuffle of chest and groin, an attempt to free himself, but he gave up quickly. “You can't escape,” Wolverine whispered to six-pack abs. “I have you, prisoner.”

As lips cascaded down his perfect abs, Scott could barely breathe, feeling every flutter as a bomb bursting inside of him. He was dizzy, the blood rushing so fast through his veins that his thought became still and his body forgot to move when Logan claimed his mouth. 

Desperate for air, but unable to push the older mutant away from him, he had to trust Logan to let him go. The kiss went on and on, an engraving of the passion between the two. Forever burned into his mouth, and unable to let it go. 

Breaking away, Wolverine grinned as Scott's chest heaved in air. “I forgot I was supposed to be a good boy,” he winked, applying a kiss to jaw – a tender thing, chaste. “I'll take good care of you,” he said, sweeping fingers through chestnut hair. “I promise.” Scott melted into the touch as knuckles grazed across his cheek bone. Logan's hand splayed wide cradling the back of his partner's head, holding him aloft for another breath-stealing kiss. Fingers rumbled over the taut muscles of chest and abdomen, teasing at nipples, before mouth gently sucked at the rosy buds. 

“Good boy,” Scott managed, his baritone so breathy that Logan could barely make out the words. Arched, his spine a perfect curve, shaky fingers bit at the bonds that tied him to the bed, drying up circulation, turning fingers a cold shade of purple. But, Wolverine refused to loosen them. If he did, the younger mutant would swarm at Logan – as so often he did – making it his mission to please the man. 

Tongue, down chest. Pleasing, wet kisses against dry skin. Shudders from the man underneath him as every synapse lit with lightning. “Good,” Scott breathed again, his mind shattered from the pleasure that he was receiving. Nothing more came from his lips, save deep moans and groans, things that expressed pleasure. 

Logan kept pursuing this ultimate bliss, centering on fully hard member at last. Leaking precum, he swiped that hardened manhood, easing it on his finger and inserting it into anus. “I'll be a good boy,” he said quietly, “but you have to be a good boy too.” 

It wasn't an arduous process, to open Scott up. They'd been through this so many times in the past few months that his body just ran instinctual. He relaxed much sooner than his first time, understood the paradigm. As Logan jacked himself to full capacity, readied himself outside of that puckered hole, Scott jolted straight up – straining arms and wrists. “Untie me!” he said, his red lensed glare intense and honest.

“What?”

“We need to go.”

In the background he could hear the tell-tale signs of fireworks, and if he stretched himself, the smell of gunpowder and flame. “Scott--”

“He's here. We need to help him.”

Within moments, Scott was free of his binds, surprising Logan. Minutes later the Captain Commander was dressed and waiting impatiently for the man still on the bed. “No sex on missions, Logan,” he said firmly – as much of a reminder to himself that they had to follow the rules as it was an admonishment to Logan.

“Didn't know you could get free of those, bub.”

“Then next time, do a better job. Hurry up, lets go.”


End file.
